


hold onto your heart

by estherroberts



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: F/F, Spoilers for 158, my goal was to finish this before MAG 160 came out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2021-01-16 13:22:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 1,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21271721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/estherroberts/pseuds/estherroberts
Summary: a series of snippets throughout daisy and basira's relationship: complete with blood, trauma, and holding hands!





	1. Chapter 1

the door shuts behind daisy with a soft click. basira checks her watch, its brightness shimmering against the otherwise dim storage closet. when she looks up, daisy is still at the door, staring at basira. 

basira swallows. “we’ve got fifteen minutes, at the most, daisy-doll.” 

without a word, daisy takes a step toward her. her eyes shine unnaturally against the blue light of basira’s watch, and stay shining even after the light goes out. she looks hungry. 

basira instinctively takes a step backward, her breath quickening. fear and desire bubble in her heart like a witch’s brew. 

daisy takes another step forward and basira another step back. this steady chase continues until basira feels the cool wall on her back. 

daisy grins and basira bites her lip. she can feel her partner’s breath on her neck as daisy finally closes the gap between them, hands wrapping around her, pulling their hips together. 

basira's breath hitches. daisy tilts her head up to whisper, “patience,” then bites down hard on basira’s ear.


	2. Chapter 2

with the windows rolled down, daisy’s hair whips in the wind. her blonde curls threaten to cover her eyes, so basira lifts a hand to hold her partner’s hair back. 

“this isn’t normally a problem you have, is it?” 

basira, hair tightly secure in her hijab, says, “it is not!” and laughs. “do you need me to drive?” 

“no,” daisy replies, and rolls up the windows with a sigh. 

basira takes perhaps a little too long to remove her hand from daisy’s forehead, and misses the warmth of it when her hand returns to her lap. she looks out the window, then glances at the dash. “detective tonner,” she says in a chiding tone, “are you currently pursuing a criminal?” 

“not at all, constable hussain.” 

“then why, pray tell, are you going this far over the legal limit?” 

daisy flashes her a wicked grin and doesn’t slow down. 

daisy’s ferocity, daisy’s love of the chase, daisy’s inability to let things go… these are what keep basira up at night. is it because they’re her most attractive qualities, or her most problematic? basira doesn’t know. so while she is tempted to let her partner speed, she feels at least a slight duty to the law they’re trying to uphold. “i will absolutely stop you from hearing any word of _the archers_ if you don’t slow down.” 

“how would that even work?” daisy’s tone is light, but the number on the speedometer is dropping rapidly. 

“i dunno. maybe i’ll screech. just, absolute, nonstop screeching,” she says. 

daisy laughs, and the carefree sound fills basira ears. “alright, alright.” she reaches her left hand out to hold barsira’s right, and doesn’t let go. 


	3. Chapter 3

basira collapses onto a curb outside the diner. she curls toward her knees and feels a sob creep up her throat. another dead end. she can’t stop picturing daisy stuck in that thing, in that _coffin_… it’s not basira’s pain and she should be grateful for that, but when her mind wanders she pictures dirt pressing in on all sides and daisy, her daisy… 

the sob escapes. it’s loud, and someone across the street shoots her a pitying glance. she tries to silence the rest of her tears as they fall, but every once and awhile she can hear herself whimper. ugh. she was in charge before jon got back, and she should be in charge now. it’s just… she doesn’t know how to do it without daisy.

she’s not working hard enough. she’s not looking hard enough. elias said—oh for fuck’s sake.

elias. 

why did she think elias was a reliable source? because he’s all knowing or some shit? it isn’t as though he was honor bound to the truth just because he knew it. 

basira feels foolish. she brushes the tears from her cheeks and stands up. she got played. and what’s worse… well, daisy’s been in there for months. all alone, left for dead, and—and basira didn’t know it, and she should have known it. the way to get her out isn’t in australia, and basira should have known that too. 

she holds the image of daisy in her mind again, and promises her she’ll save her.


	4. Chapter 4

now that daisy’s out there’s so much for her to adjust to.

1\. her eyes hurt when she goes outside,  
2\. she has to eat every meal slowly,  
3\. she needs physical therapy,  
4\. she can’t be alone, but  
5\. she recoils at touch,

but the biggest adjustment of all is not having the hunt. she feels more herself. whatever that means. she feels… more empty? she’s trying to stay clean, stay safe, but it hurts and it’s hard and she’s wasting away like this. and basira… well. 

with basira like this, daisy longs for the buried sometimes. 

she remembers how it felt to be stuffed inside of it, tiny and isolated. she remembers the pressure, the lack of breath, the constant fear of dying like this. or worse, living forever like this. she remembers the darkness and she remembers the worms and she remembers the singing and the moaning, and… she thinks, it couldn’t have been as bad as this.

when basira’s in the room daisy feels that pressure again. basira looks at her and wants her to be someone else. and that weighs on daisy more than being buried alive ever could. 


	5. Chapter 5

daisy’s cot is across the room from barsira’s. she looks asleep, or like she’s trying to convince herself she’s asleep.

basira, from under her pile of blankets, can hardly feel the cold. but ever since the buried, daisy’s refused any blanket, even sheets. in her tank top and pajama shorts, she shivers violently. good lord, even the chatter of her teeth is audible. 

basira watches for a while, curious to see if her partner will be able to find rest like this. 

daisy cannot. she curls even tighter around herself and shakes, and shakes. 

eventually, the strings connecting basira’s heart to daisy’s tug a little too hard, and she speaks. “daisy-doll, are you alright?” 

daisy opens her eyes. even without the hunt rushing through her veins, she meets basira’s gaze in the dark. she shakes her head, ever so slightly. 

basira wraps her blanket around herself, walks over to daisy, and perches on the edge of the bed. 

daisy doesn’t flinch away, but basira can see her discomfort. “i won’t come any closer, i promise.” 

daisy nods, again a slight movement.

basira can feel the space between them like it’s physical, pressing down on her the way the dirt must have on daisy. it’s a space she cultivated, cared for, but now that weight feels more like regret. 

“i’m cold,” daisy whispers. 


	6. Chapter 6

“this might be it,” basira says. 

“basira?” it isn’t a choice. at least, not for daisy. basira is right there next to her, and she is terrified. sure, her voice is strong, unwavering. but her fingers twitch as they rest on her gun and daisy’s seen that look in her eyes a million times. 

she ignores daisy, says, “didn’t think it would end like this… you know what, actually i think i did.” 

basira cannot fend off the hunt and the not-them on her own. 

daisy takes a long, slow inhale through her nose. she can feel her blood, barely at the edges of her consciousness, and she reaches for it, pulling it forward, until her body is thrumming with its own pulse. she inhales again and suddenly she knows—she can smell—exactly where julia and trevor are. another inhale and a distinctly _wrong _scent tells her where the not-them is too. 

she wants to vomit. she wants to kill. 

she holds the hunt one degree apart from her core, even as it claws to become her. “basira, promise me something.”

“what?” basira snaps out of her reverie. she faces daisy, an expression of horror plain on her face. “no, daisy, _no_.” 

_basira_, she thinks, _basira, please, because—because i won’t let it have me without knowing it’ll be okay, without knowing you’ll be safe at the end. and isn’t this what you wanted, basira? please, _“basira? when this is over, you need to find me and kill me. promise me.”

“no. _no. _daisy, we’ll figure something out.” she crosses the space between them and grabs daisy’s hand in hers. 

“these last months, i—it was always always borrowed time. can’t outrun it forever.” daisy’s voice shakes. she squeezes basira’s hand. 

“daisy…” 

“promise me.” 

“i promise.” basira leans forward and almost out of habit, kisses her.

the contact startles daisy. it doesn’t hurt, and it doesn’t feel hungry it used to either, but… it feels soft. sorrowful. for the briefest of moments, daisy sinks into it, imagining some kind of life where she could have this, have basira. she pulls away. “thanks. now run.” 

“daisy.” basira isn’t moving. her eyes won’t leave daisy’s and she seems to be realizing the gravity of what she’s agreed to. 

but there’s no time for this. daisy feels that space between her and the hunt, and closes it. “_run.” _


	7. Chapter 7

when basira sees daisy again, corpses line the halls. daisy’s mouth is stained with blood, and now that basira’s looking, so are her hands, her shirt… she’s covered. some absurd part of basira’s brain thinks, “wow. hot.” before she can pull the reins in and remind herself this is supposed to be terrifying. it is terrifying.

daisy creeps toward her. there is no recognition in her eyes. 

basira raises her gun. _a promise is a promise_, she thinks, and cocks it. 

daisy sees this and her pace quickens, she tears down the hallway toward basira with a speed impossible for a human. 

basira fires. 

the gun clicks. 

she cannot even be shocked, before daisy’s tackled her to the ground. 

basira kicks and kicks and kicks. but the hunt gave daisy control over her strength again and it’s no use. 

“daisy,” basira tries, “daisy, listen to me.” 

daisy cocks her head.

what to say, what to sa—oh. she wonders if… “do you really want me _now_? wouldn’t that be too easy? hm?”

daisy doesn’t respond, but she isn’t ripping basira to pieces, either. so that’s something. 

“c’mon, love, don’t you remember? you always asked me for patience. how am i supposed to be patient if you just kill me right away?” 

somehow, her grip loosens. immediately, basira rolls away, scrambling for the gun next to trevor’s body. she grabs it and flips back around to daisy. 

daisy smiles. 

this time, basira’s hand shakes. she raises the gun but it wobbles violently as she looks at the woman who's been her partner for years. 

and basira _sees _her. she sees their car rides, their chases, their break time in police hq storage closets. she sees daisy knitting by her fireplace, daisy digging graves, daisy naming herself, daisy reading a book upside down in a bunk bed, and daisy at three, four, seven, with skinned knees and big eyes and baby teeth. basira sees things she’s seen, and things she knows and things she couldn’t possibly know. and it feels like power, and it feels like love.

“goddamn it, daisy tonner,” she whispers. “come back to me.” 

**Author's Note:**

> come say hi to me on tumblr @estherroberts! also, i have a playlist for these girls too: https://estherroberts.tumblr.com/post/188619298384/bad-idea-a-daisybasira-fanmix-listen-on
> 
> title from "various storms & saints" by florence & the machine


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